Robot Boy
by Isho Moogoo
Summary: It's just another day of daydreaming for Tsuna, when he's suddenly ripped away from the life he's gotten used to by a Hitman dressed all in black. Now he needs to adapt to survive in his new surroundings, or else get eaten alive by those who wish to use him for their own gain.
1. Prologue

**right, i've been sitting on this story for a long ass time, and i finally caved and started writing it. i hope you like it, because this is gunna be a long ass ride.**

**DamiaofLight helped me with some of the plot for this a few months ago before her health made her pretty much drop everything**

**title is from the Linkin Park song of the same name. i couldn't think of a better title, srry**

**i like comments, suggestions, and criticism, and i hope to hear from you**

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"_Oh Tsu-chan, you tripped again? Here, let mummy take a look at you."_

"_Oh baby, that's a pretty nasty scratch. Mummy will have to take you to the doctor."_

"_No need to fuss Tsu-chan! Be a good boy, and get in the car. If you're brave for the doctor, then we'll go for sushi. You want sushi don't you?"_

"_There, see? That wasn't so bad was it? You didn't even need stitches. Now, since you were a big brave boy, let's go get some sushi."_

"_*chuckle* No need to yell Tsuna, I'll make sure to order some sashimi for you."_

"_No, I don't think having a bandage on your head can excuse you from school tomor-"_

_**SCREEEEEEEEECCCCHHHHH**_

My eyes snap open when a sudden noise blares through the room. It's really loud, where is it coming from? I lazily blink the sleep from my eyes, and lift my head up, propping my chin on top of my bent knees. I peer through the bars of my cage, and up at the blinking light in the far corner of the room. The white light violently cuts through the darkness of the room, and burns into my eyes with every flash.

To my right I hear a low moan, before the cage next to me starts to rattle. I glance over and, using the brief flashes of light to see, make out a girl violently thrashing around. Her head keeps banging against the bars of her cage, and after a few more moments, she stops moving altogether. I blink at her still form a couple of times, before the door to the room bursts open.

The dim, bare bulb that hangs from the ceiling flicks on, and there's a figure standing by the now closed door. Huh, he's not one of the doctors, he's not dressed like them. Well, he's not wearing a white coat anyway and has a scar running along the left side of his jaw. He seems to be in a hurry, and is sweating quite a bit. His brow is furrowed like he's angry, and he quickly looks around the room.

What does he want? Does it have anything to do with the noise and lights? I blink as he makes his way to the farthest cage from me on the left, and fully close my eyes when he starts fumbling with the lock. Whatever he's doing, it has nothing to do with me right now. I tuck my face back into my knees, and try to go back to sleep. I think I was having a really nice dream.

The man spits out some angry words, and the clinking and rattling stops. There's silence for a moment, before I hear a strange rustling noise. My fingers twitch, and grip each other tighter when a loud bang rings through the air. I manage to lift my head just as another bang sounds through my ringing ears.

The man is standing in front of the next cage over from the first, and is pointing a gun at a boy who is now slumped over, with blood oozing from his head. The man walks down the line, and disposes of the next one. Oh, I guess we're not needed anymore. That's fine I guess, all I do is daydream anyway. I wonder what will happen after I die. Well, at least it will be quick.

Just as the man is two cages away from mine, my attention is grabbed by some movement in front of my cage. Oh, it's Da-chan again. he's come to visit me again. He's a little less fuzzy today, but I still can't really make out his face. The pattern of his blue hair a bit more detailed though, so there's that.

I gaze into his obscured eyes, wondering what he wants this time. He looks like he's concerned, and his wispy hands are clutching at the bars as he kneels down in front of me. I tilt my head slightly, showing that I'm paying attention. He and To-chan never do anything, unless they know I'm paying attention to them. That I can see them. He frowns as he looks down at me, and then looks over at the man as he goes to the cage next to mine. The angry man levels the weapon to the crying boy's head, not seeming to care for his shuddering sobs spilling from his mouth.

A blurry hand reaches out and touches the side of my face, blocking my view of the man. My eyes flick back to Da-chan, who now looks serious. He mouths some words to me, his stroking fingers imparting just a smidge of warmth to my face.

**_Close your_ _eyes._ _It's_ _going_ _to be ok._**

I tilt my head further into the hand, taking care not to slip through it entirely. My eyes slip closed again as the gun goes off, followed by the soft click and scrape of the man's shoes as he makes his way over to me. My breathing halts as I freeze in anticipation. I'm not sure if I'm ready for this anymore. I mean, would it have been so bad to see the sun again? Or at least hear Da-chan and To-chan's voices again? That would've been nice, they were always so kind to me.

There's a couple of clicks, followed by some more angry words. I feel the warmth of Da-chan's hand move to cover my eyes and my right knee. So I keep my eyes closed, and stay absolutely still. I hear the man crouch down, and then a hand is roughly grabbing my hair to lift my head up. He shakes me, even going so far as to bang my head against the door, but I don't react. Not even when I feel Da-chan's hand slip through my head.

The loud screeching noise finally stops, and the man says something after abruptly releasing his grip. His shoes squeal as he shoots up from his crouch, and something metal clatters to the ground as the man runs out of the room. After the man's footsteps completely fade away, I open my eyes to look around. My vision is spotting a bit, but I can still make out the set of keys that are laying near my cage.

I blink down at them for a moment, before Da-chan re-appears and starts gesturing at them. I suppose he's telling me to pick them up and unlock the cage, but I'd get in a lot of trouble if I did that. What should I do? It's not really worth getting punished to escape, but Da-chan has never lied to me, or tried to get me hurt.

After another moment of thought, and Da-chan's gestures getting more frantic, I decide to go ahead and grab them. I was going to be killed anyway, so it's not like doing this will change anything. Just where I'll die.

So I unwrap my arms from under the crook of my knees, and reach a shaky hand out through the bars. My fingers flub the shiny ring of metal a few times, before I manage to get a firm enough grip to lift them off the floor. I gingerly bring them back into the cage, and drape them across my knees. I inspect each one, trying to figure out which one goes to my cage.

A slim, translucent hand slips through the bars again, and points at one of the smaller keys. Oh, I suppose it's this one then. I pick the key out from the rest, and position it in front of the keyhole of the lock, knees digging into the bars again as I lean forward.

With a soft click, the lock pops open. I manage to pull it out of the hole, but my shaking fingers slip and it clatters loudly to the ground. I huff out a breath, and look up towards the door. It remains closed, and I notice that Da-chan is gone now. I guess it's time to go then.

I press a hand against the bars, and the door squeals open. I take a few more breaths, and then stretch my legs out. It's been awhile, and my legs are cramping something fierce. I breathe through the pain, and lean forward, scrabbling at the bars to get far enough forward. I lose my balance though, and fall over to the side, hitting my head on the bars again before hitting concrete. I let out a grunt and just lay there for awhile, awkwardly sprawled in front of my cage.

After a short period of silence, I look up at the door again. Oh, To-chan's here now. Hi To-chan. His hair is particularly yellow today. Must be because he's standing right underneath the light bulb. He kneels down and brings his hands up in front of him. He motions towards himself, and mouths some words.

_**Come on Tsu-chan, you need to get up.**_

I huff out a breath. Fine. I wrestle my arms underneath me, and shakily push myself up onto my knees. Winded, I wait for a moment before starting to crawl to where I can see To-chan's wispy feet. I see him stand back up, and he backs up with each movement I make forward. I pause again once I get to the middle of the room, panting and shaking as To-chan kneels back down.

Once I catch my breath again, I look up to see To-chan patiently waiting next to the door, gentle smile on his face. He waves me closer, and I start crawling again. It seems to take less time to close the remaining distance, and I'm soon right in front of the closed door. To-chan is gone, which means I'm completely alone now. It's going to be just me for awhile, To-chan and Da-chan can never stay for too long before they have to leave again.

Before I can convince myself otherwise, I place a palm on the door. While using that one as leverage, I manage to get my other hand on the door as well, and just lean on it for a bit. Mmmm, the metal's nice and cool. I need to get up though, to reach the knob if nothing else.

I crane my head around, looking for the knob. I manage to locate it on the left side, despite the swimming of my vision, and reach for it. I miss, fingers stubbing themselves on the metal, and try grabbing at it again. I feel my fingers finally wrap around it, and I huff in relief.

Before I can do anything, the knob suddenly turns on its own. I blink, and soon the door is ripped open. Without the support of the door, my body gives out and I fall back onto the concrete with a grunt. So much for escaping. I absently stare at the shiny black dress shoes, wondering who it is that would wear such fancy things in a place like this.

I hear words being spoken, and my eyes flicker up to look into sharp, coal black eyes. Huh, haven't seen eyes that colour in a long time. My gaze then drops down to the gun that is pointed at my head. I let out a slow breath, and close my eyes.

**i have stated this in other fics, but i make no promises for an update schedule. i update as i get motivated, and life sometimes gets busy. i also have no beta reader, if you see any errors or mistakes, please let me know. i'm also game if you want to beta read for me, it makes things easier**


	2. The Discovery

**ok, first, don't get used to this. i'm only posting so soon so you guys have a bit more to judge this story by. i'm going to try and pace my updates to every other week so i can retain a decent chapter buffer, and because i'm still focusing on my BNHA fics right now. i don't want to burn myself out, so hopefully this'll work**

**also, if you're squeamish about things like hygiene, gore, or sex, this fic probably isn't for you. i'm not very shy in my writing, and that explicit tag is there for a reason.**

**other than that, enjoy! comment if you wanna. i'm already pleasantly surprised with the response this fic has gotten so far, and i hope you continue to enjoy the story. (still not beta read, i just quickly proofread before posting)**

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I curse when an alarm starts blaring throughout the compound. Not because people will know I'm here, but because it's fucking obnoxious. I've already cleared out all but a handful of people, and I'm currently in the last part of the building. The part which, if the blueprints I saw are accurate, has only one way in or out. And, since I'm currently standing in the way of the only exit, I can just off whoever is left as I check out the last of the rooms. The cutoff for the alarm should also be down here, since there's no one left in the rest of the building to set it off.

Keeping my gun up and at the ready, I make my way down the filthy, dimly lit corridor and up to the first door on the left. Once in front of it, I gently place my hand on the knob, and press my ear against cool metal. I hear someone shuffling around, and the muffled sound of his cursing. The sounds only indicate one person in the room, who doesn't even seem to be waiting to ambush me, but I should still be careful. I glance down the corridor one more time, ensuring that I'm still alone down here, and slowly turn the knob.

Without further ado, I shove the door open, and quickly scope out the room. After almost immediately locating the sole occupant of the room, I effortlessly aim and squeeze a round into his chest. The man stumbles back, and falls to the ground, blood pouring from his body. Without wasting any time, I make my way forward and empty another round into his forehead, ensuring that he won't get up again.

I look back up, and go to check the hall again. Still no other people. The only reason people would hole up in this dead end section of the building, would be to either get rid of evidence and information they don't want getting out, or because they're idiots. From what I've seen so far, it could be either one.

I glance back into the room I just cleared, and decide to take a closer look at the electrical panels that line the walls. That alarm is getting on my last nerves, and one of these boxes should have a wire or fuse that connects to it. Hmmm, let's see here. Lights, lights, medical rooms, offices, ah! Here we are, security systems. Luckily, the switch to the alarm doesn't require anything else other than flipping it to 'OFF', and I can go back to clearing the remaining rooms with little fuss.

I only get to the next door down, when I hear someone running my way. It only sounds like one pair of shoes, and I ready my gun in front of me. Instead of rounding the corner and meeting me, I hear a door further ahead loudly open and slam shut.

My eyebrow twitches, and I suppress the urge to shake my head. Other than the people on the upper floors, the ones down here are just sloppy. They probably never expected anyone to make it this far, and only posted the dregs of the organization down here. Well, it just means that I'll be done and out of here sooner than expected. I can't believe the employer is willing to pay so much for a ludicrously easy job such as this.

After making sure there isn't anybody in the room I'm next to, I cautiously make my way around the corner. It looks like there's only two rooms left. One is situated on the right, and says 'Specimen Room 2' in faded bold lettering on the metal door. The other is straight ahead of me, and says 'Specimen Room 1'. Hmmm, I don't suppose I'll find and living 'samples' here either. All the others had been disposed of before I could get to them, and I don't think it'll be any different down here. Not after how much time has passed anyway.

So I approach the door on the right, and press my ear to it. I can barely hear the sounds of people talking. It sounds like two people, but I'm not absolutely sure. I carefully turn the doorknob, and swing the door open. I duck back behind the wall before the door smashes into the wall, and I hear the occupants curse. The sound of a gun rings out, and a few bullets fly into the wall opposite me.

That's strange, there's definitely more than one person, so why is only one of them firing? I wait until I hear the person's gun click, and peek around far enough to catch sight of one of the men. Not one to waste a chance, I immediately put a bullet through his skull. I then withdraw back behind the wall again, and listen to the other let out a rather long string of curses. I hear a magazine clatter to the floor, and take my chance to enter the room fully, and take the last one out before he can reload.

Staying on high alert, I sweep the room with my eyes. Not finding anyone else, that's moving anyway, I make my way over to the two bodies and make sure they're both dead. A cursory check of the first one I killed, reveals an empty gun and no spare rounds. Well, that explains why only one of them was firing. I suppose the other one didn't want to share the rest of his bullets.

Both are dressed in old suits, with washed out stains here and there on their off white shirts. Well, they were shitty guards, but you get what you pay for I guess. I scoop up what ammo remains on the second man, and look around the room more throroughly. The small cages that line the walls are mostly occupied, but from all the blood splatter I see, they're probably all dead. I check each cage to make absolutely sure, but my assumption is only confirmed with each bullet hole I see in their heads.

I frown, and absently tug on one of my side burns with my free hand. These guys are only efficient in the most annoying of ways. I sigh and stand back up, my shoes crunching against the encrusted muck underneath them. God these rooms are filthy, if this suit wasn't so expensive, I'd burn it the moment this mission is over. I just hope a good dry cleaning can get the grime and the smell out. I think the shoes are goners though, pity.

I check how many rounds I have left, decide to reload, and walk back into the hallway. One door left, and I can finally leave. I still have to sweep the building one more time, to make sure I've properly dealt with everyone, but that always takes less time since I just have to retrace my steps.

I take a few steps towards the door, before freezing in place. Did I just hear a thump? I observe it a bit more carefully, and notice the doorknob twitching slightly. I narrow my eyes, bring my gun up, and close the rest of the distance. The knob twitches again, but goes still a moment later, and I decide that I need to get the jump on whoever is on the other side.

I grip the knob, twist it with a bit more force than necessary, and yank the door open. I don't know what possesses me in that moment, but I don't pull the trigger when a body falls limply at my feet. I stare down at the… child that is now sprawled across the concrete, gun still level with their head. The child's head lifts marginally, my hand automatically shifting to compensate, and a pair of deep brown eyes stare up at me. Our eyes lock for a moment, and I have to suppress a shudder that runs down my spine. They look impossibly old in that one moment, before they flit down to catch sight of my weapon.

A dull look of acceptance seeps onto their face, and they lay their head back down onto the filthy floor, before closing their eyes. I frown, and look back up to see if anyone else is running loose in the room. Except the cages lining the room, it's surprisingly empty. Twisting my curled side burn around my finger again, I lower the gun and look back down at the kid who hasn't moved the entire time.

"Who are you?"

The kid doesn't respond, just continues laying there. My frown turns into a scowl, and I drop my hand from my hair.

"Hey, can you hear me? What's your name?"

Again, no answer. I nudge the kid's head with the tip of my shoe, slightly raising their head and let it drop back onto the floor. Still no reaction. Fuck, did the kid finally die after making it all the way to the door? It wouldn't surprise me, considering how emaciated they are. The kid is so ratty and grungy looking, I can't even tell if they're a boy or girl.

I shake my head and sigh, re-holstering my gun. Guess I should check on the others, before I head back out and report that the mission is finished. All but one of the kids in the cages was shot through the skull like the rest. Taking a closer look at the one on the far end, it seems they died from blunt force trauma to the head. They also bit their tongue, but there isn't enough blood seeping from the mouth to say that's a cause of death. Either way, I check their pulse to be sure, and stand back up.

I pull my cell from my pocket, and check the time. Looks like it'll still be daylight out when I get out of here, if only for an hour or two. I turn the screen off and tuck the phone away, peeking down at the kid. I now notice the kid's chest rising and falling from the faintest of breaths, and blink in surprise. The kid is either just about to expire, or is really good at playing dead.

I pull my hand from my pocket, and approach the kid again. I step around them again, and squat down in front of their face. I look them over again, this time with a more critical eye. My mission parameters were to infiltrate one of the Estraneo's experimentation facilities, terminate anyone found working there, and obtain any information I can on what experiments that were being run here. After that was done, I am to inform my contact that the job was done, hand over any hard intel I have, get paid and leave.

All the clean up will be handled by a separate party. Nothing was said of taking prisoners, or what to do if any of the experiments were still alive. So, what should I do with the kid? I could consider the kid as a source of information, and deliver them to my contact along with the few files and flash drives I have. That would only be a viable option, though, if the kid still has good mental faculties, and actually knew anything to begin with. Not to mention if they would survive the trip back up to the surface.

It might be kinder to just kill them now and leave them for the cleaners, if the kid's physical condition is anything to go by. Not only are they just skin and bones, they're absolutely filthy. What's left of their too small, ragged clothes are more than likely encrusted with more than just dirt and grime, and their mousy hair is just one big rat's nest. Who knows what their mental state is like after all this time, if their body looks like this.

I sigh, and run a hand down my face. I then look behind me at the only empty cage in the room. The rusty barred door has been pushed open as far as the destroyed hinges can go, and there is a ring of keys still sticking out of the padlock that rest just in front of it on the floor. There's a good ten paces from the cage to the door, and the kid probably crawled or dragged themselves across that distance. And then the image of the kid's eyes flashes to the front of my mind again.

Whatever mental state this kid is in, it takes a whole lot of determination to get as far as they did. I'm not sure how long they've been down here, or what they've endured, but this kid still has the desire to escape. To survive. With that thought in mind, I scoop the filthy creature up, and sling them over my right shoulder. When the kid's bony pelvis rests against me, I feel a distinct lump pressing down on my shoulder. A boy then. I then start walking back down the corridor, to make my final sweep of the facility before I leave. If the kid can survive long enough to get to the surface, then I will call my contact and leave the boy's fate up to them.

* * *

It's while I'm catching up on paperwork, that the first report on the Estraneo mission comes in. It was a rather open secret that the Estraneo Famiglia experiment on humans, but many ignored it because their work has produced quite a lot of good medicine, medical techniques, and poisons that work rather well on Flame users. Even I had ignored their actions for a long time. That is, until I caught wind of them doing experiments focused on forcing Flames to activate, and, in turn, figuring out how to deactivate them.

Not only could they make themselves a veritable army of Flame actives, they could cripple any Flame active they came across as well, without even having to use a Seal. Seals that can only be used by highly skilled Skies, might I add. If they found an easy, simple, _permanent_ way to rid users of their Flames, then the entire underworld would be under their thumb.

My intuition trembled at the news, and I knew it had to be put to an end. Of course, I couldn't let it be linked back to the Famiglia, so I had several freelancers hired to exterminate the different facilities under their control. Clean up will be handled by other freelancers, and no one will be in direct contact with each other. No one will know that Vongola is responsible for eradicating the Estraneo.

It's only been a week since the orders had been issued, and I already have a report on a presumably successful mission. Coyote wouldn't be this relaxed if it were bad news. I glance up at my Storm Guardian, who remains as poised and professional looking as ever, and I set aside the document I was looking over. I tug the unassuming manila folder over, and casually flip it open.

"Only a week and I'm already getting results. Who was the one sent to this location?"

"Renato."

"No one escaped?"

"None that worked there, no."

"Oh?"

I keep my eyes on the file, skimming over certain sections as I ask my questions.

"The only survivor was one of the specimens they kept on site."

"Was?"

"Despite being alive, the boy was in very poor physical condition when found a day or so ago. Renato reported that it was unknown if the boy would last another day without emergency medical attention. He provided a picture of the boy along with some pictures of documents and data he recovered. I'm currently setting up a drop point for him to turn in the physical items."

I hum and flip another page over, before freezing in shock. My intuition twinges in the back of my head, and I sharply look back up at my Guardian. Coyote notices my sudden attention, and straightens his spine even more than it already is.

"Coyote. I want you to immediately find out if that boy is still alive. If he is, arrange for a doctor to see to him as soon as possible. Inform me of the results as soon as you get them."

"Yes Nono."

"It's unlikely that the boy can be moved anytime soon, so have this… Renato watch him until he can be safely retrieved. Make it _absolutely _clear to to this hit man, that his top priority right now is to keep the boy alive, or he will not be paid _at all_."

Coyote nods again, and I look back down at the file. Particularly at a photo of a brown haired, skeletal boy.

"Also, and this is just as important, make sure no one finds out about this until I say so. I don't want anyone to know that Vongola has an heir. We can't afford to lose this one, not again."

Understanding flickers through the aging man's eye, and he bows deeply before excusing himself to carry out my orders. My eyes roam over the picture some more, heaving out a weary sigh. It has been a long time since I saw the boy, twelve years I believe. Nine since he was presumed dead after his mother was killed in an 'accident', and his body never found.

I flip through the rest of the report, before calling Croquant in. I need all the information I can get on this Renato fellow, and start getting things set up for the new heir's arrival. I don't care what condition the boy is in, I won't allow Vongola to fall once I'm gone.

**i hope the pov changes aren't too jarring. i don't plan on having multiple pov's in a chapter, but i try to make it clear that it has changed when it happens. let me know if you get confused, and i'll try to correct it.**

**Jay Dawn was correct when they assumed the guy at the end of the last chapter was reborn, though i'm calling him renato in this fic for... reasons. yeah. they also asked why/ how reborn is low key a diva, and the answer is simple. that's just how his character comes off to me, and it's kind of reflected when i write in his pov.**


	3. The Decision

**told you you'd have to wait. work is kicking. my. ASS! ugh. it also doesn't help that the good omens fandom essentially took me hostage.**

**anyway, hope you enjoy. feel free to tell me what you think**

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The sun is low in the sky when I finally make it back out of the facility, painting half the sky a burnt orange colour. I suppose now's a good time to check on the kid, see if he's still alive. Once I do that, I can inform my contact that the mission is done. I look around the grounds of the remote facility, and decide to lay the kid down on the nearby lawn, which looks to be recently trimmed.

I step over the curb and set the boy down, carefully positioning him on his left side. Just before I move to check his pulse, since his breaths are still almost imperceptible, the boy suddenly stirs. His brown eyes, almost amber in the light, flutter open and he looks blankly in front of him. His eyes roam aimlessly for a moment before locking onto the tuft of grass under his bony hand.

His fingers twitch, like he's trying to grasp the green strands under them. I quirk my brow at the boy's behaviour. Not because of his reaction to being outside, no, that's to be expected. Who knows when he's last seen nature, if ever. No, what's interesting is how immediate it is. I honestly thought he was asleep, if not dead, before now.

He acts like the opossum's that inhabit the Americas, going still and acting dead to avoid attention, only to regain consciousness when it is deemed safe to do so. Well, there's no harm in allowing him to do as he pleases for now, I have a call to make after all. So I stand up, finally holster my gun, and pull out my mobile. I type in the number I had memorized a week ago, when I received the job. I listen to it ring a few times, while the boy manages to shift around enough to look up at the darkening sky. The ringing abruptly stops, and a gruff voice comes through the line.

"Who's this?"

"Renato. I've finished the job"

I hear a grunt, and then a shuffling noise come through the line.

"Oh? That was quick. Anything to report?"

"Of course it was, I'm not some third rate hack. All staff are taken care of, and I obtained some important documents and data for the employer."

"Alright, take a picture of them now and send them to this number. I'll get back to you with a place to drop the stuff. Your payment will be wired once everything is in order."

With the phone on speaker, I flip over to the camera function. I lay out all the documents and the zip drives, taking a quick picture and sending it before the man finishes speaking.

"Alright. Done. There's one other thing that I need to inform you of."

There's a wary pause on the other end, before he speaks up again.

"What?"

"There was a survivor amongst the specimens. A boy, looks to be twelve or thirteen, dangerously emaciated. Conscious and alert right now, may have pertinent information. I'm unsure how long he'll last though, he's in terrible physical condition. I wouldn't be surprised if he dropped dead by tomorrow."

I hear another grunt.

"Hmmm, well. I'm not sure what the employer will want in this situation, never said anything about the experiments themselves. Just assumed they'd be dealt with when the cleaners did their job."

The last sentence is said quietly and offhandedly, likely being said more to himself. I choose not to respond, and a sigh crackles through the line.

"Take a picture of the kid too and send it to me."

I kneel down in front of the kid, who's still staring up at the sky, and open the camera function again. I frown at the angle of the kid's face in the shot, and grab his chin to adjust it more towards me. His eyes, which were curious before, turn blank again as soon as my fingers make contact. I take the photo, and quickly send it as my contact starts speaking again.

"I'll ask the employer what they want done with him. I guess you could try keeping him alive in the meantime, but- _ding_ – considering what this kid looks like and how you described him, I wouldn't try too hard. I'll let them know the kid'll probably bite it before they can get to him. Just do what you can, and get rid of the corpse if and when it comes to that. Anything else?"

My mouth twitches into a frown.

"No, that's it. I need to get going now, get back to me when you can."

The man gives a brusque affirmative, and the line goes dead. I tuck my phone back into my suit pocket, and look down at the boy who's pretending to be dead again. I then look back up at the sky, which has started turning red and purple. Well, time to go. I parked my car on an outer road about a mile away from here, where only the occasional farmer drives by once every few days.

Today isn't one of those days, but I still acquired an old beater specifically for this job and made sure to conceal it behind some thick foliage. That way no one can link me anywhere near here should the law, or other Famiglie, look into this. It's going to be quite the walk, even without baggage, and it'll be fully dark by the time I get there. At least the kid doesn't weigh much.

* * *

The boy is still alive when I reach the car, and I place him in the passenger seat once I manage to get it back onto the gravel road. He seems to be legitimately asleep by the time I get to a commuter parking lot twelve miles from the facility. No matter how good of an actor you are, all facades drop when you lose consciousness. Your breathing deepens, and your body goes a bit lax. Nothing can change that. At least he doesn't snore. His breathing sounds just a bit off though, like he has chest congestion. He's probably starting to get sick, which doesn't surprise me.

Once I get to the commuter parking lot, I pull alongside a black Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio, which blends in nicely with the dark surroundings. I quickly eye the body of the car, making sure there's no scratches or dents. I'd have to kill someone if it were to get damaged in any way. Once parked, I turn off the engine and unlock the doors. I decide to leave the keys in the ignition and pull out another set, this one belonging to my own.

Despite how filthy I am, I'm not exactly dressed to be driving an old beater. If I head to my current apartment in a car like this, it'll draw more attention than I would like. I'm already bringing this twig of a kid with me, so I'd rather do it in style thank you.

I pop open the boot, and grab a few towels and cleaning wipes. I lay some of the towels down in the back seat, and then drape a couple over the driver's seat. I refuse to get any of the filth from my suit, or whatever's clinging to the boy, on my leather seats. Once that's done, I grab the boy from the back of the beater and place him onto the towels. After another moment of thought, I grab one of the remaining towels, and drape it over him before buckling him in.

With that taken care of, I grab the disinfectant wipes and start working on the beater. I need to get whatever fingerprints I may have left behind, off the various surfaces. It wouldn't do to leave behind evidence, I'd like to stay off any official radar for as long as possible. I can't be the best at what I do if I get sloppy and wind up behind bars.

With everything cleaned and taken care of, I lock the beater with the keys still inside, and finally get into my car and make my way home.

* * *

It's almost three in the morning when I finally make it back home, and the boy only stirred once. Granted, he just curled himself into a ball, with his arms tucked under the crook of his knees, and went back to pretending to be asleep. At least he's still alive, I already decided to bring him home, and disposing of a body within city limits is a pain in the ass.

Before dragging the kid up into my apartment, I decide to make sure that the coast is clear. I don't live in a very discreet neighborhood right now, and getting seen by anyone would be really bad. I normally wouldn't bring anything work related back to this particular apartment, but this place was the closest and I'm on a time crunch right now. The boy more than likely needs immediate medical attention, but hospitals ask too many questions and are an unnecessary risk right now. So I'll just clean him up the best I can, do some emergency first aid, and hope he survives long enough to find a doctor who won't go blabbing to the cops. I wonder if I could get away with sending the bill to the client. Hmmm, maybe not. Oh well.

After making sure the guard is asleep like usual, and that the video cameras are still fake, I quickly go back to the car and scoop the boy up, towels and all, into my arms. I sneak passed the snoring guard and zip over to the stairwell. I head up to the fourth floor, which is also the top floor, and check the hallway. The coast is still clear, and I fish my keys out of my grimy pocket before heading to the fifth door down. I shift the boy up onto my shoulder so I can unlock and open the door, and flick the lights on once I'm safely inside.

Alright, first things first, I need to get us cleaned up. I make my way through the living room, passed the kitchen, and into the hallway. On the right is the door that leads into a spacious bathroom, and I set the towel wrapped boy down on the tiled floor next to the tub. I then reach over the porcelain lip and twist the knobs to turn the shower on. Hmmm, I suppose a little warmer than lukewarm will be good for now. It won't be good to add burns on top of whatever else is covering the kid's skin.

While I wait for the water to warm up, I take the time to strip down to my boxers, tossing the filthy clothes into a corner. I'll take them to the dry cleaner's later, when I have some more time and they're open. There's a rather quaint little place a couple blocks down, and the old lady never asks what keeps getting onto my clothes. Such a delightful woman, should probably send her something. Maybe some sweets from the local bakery.

I then kneel down, and unwrap the kid from the towels. The kid's so scrawny, the towels just dwarf him in size. I take another look at him, and take note of everything I can. His stained shirt, which hangs just above his sunken navel, should be easy enough to remove if the kid cooperates and moves his arms for me. The shorts though, they have to go. They're so encrusted in whatever was coating the floors, as well as the kid's own filth, I wouldn't be surprised if they were stuck to his skin. I'll just soak his clothes in water and cut them off, just to be safe.

Looking at his hair is almost nightmare inducing. It still looks ratty and disgusting, but in the bright light of the bathroom I can see exactly what I missed in the dim light of the facility. His hair is nothing but greasy, lint filled knots. What looks like large flakes of dead skin litter the matted mess, and my nose crinkles in disgust. Right, there's no salvaging that either. It's probably best to just shave all that off.

Now that I have a game plan in mind, I stand back up and walk over to the sink. I open the medicine cabinet and pull out my old electric razor. I haven't used it since I bought a newer, more functional one a few months ago. So it won't matter if it gets destroyed in that kid's hair. After making sure that it's still sufficiently charged, I kneel down and pull out a professional looking first aid kit. This should have everything I need for now, unless his condition takes an even worse turn.

Though, he'd probably be dead if that were to happen. I'm honestly more surprised that he's still alive than anything else. I have no idea how long he was in that place, or how long they let him be in that condition, but I've seen stronger men die from much less during my time in the Business. If he's this tenacious now, just imagine how he'll be at full health. The thought brings a feral grin to my face.

Tools now in hand, I turn back around to see the boy curled back up on his side. Well, I he's still awake, that's something at least. His position doesn't help me though, so I'm going to have to stretch him back out eventually. I place my burden down next to the towel, keeping the razor in hand, and gently grab the boy's neck. I position his head a bit better, and turn the razor on. Best to get all that hair off first, instead of letting it clog up my drain. I place the razor at the base of the kid's neck, and slowly move up along his skull.

"Minchia!(1)"

Just after getting a few centimetres up, I notice hundreds, if not thousands, of dark coloured insects crawling around on both the boy's scalp and inside his hair. _Ges__ù__(2),_ This kid is infested with lice! Fuck! That's it, screw just throwing things out later. I'm burning _everything_ this kid touched. The towels, my shoes, my clothes, everything. Except the car, I'll just get that sterilized later.

This also means that I need to get de-lousing products, because I doubt he just has head lice. God, what other parasites has this kid picked up down there? Ugh, I just need to get the rest of the hair on his head shaved off, and dump him in the shower for now. It's only… four twenty in the morning, and no pharmacy is going to be open at this hour. At least not in this town anyway.

* * *

I ended up having to shave all the hair off the kid's body, since he also had pubic and body lice crawling around on him. I may have misjudged the boy's age a bit, since he seems to be fully developed down there. Not surprising really. He's so malnourished and underweight, he probably wasn't able to grow properly before his body ran out of energy.

Only his head and pubic hair had to go, since it seems the body lice should be taken care of with a good wash and some clean clothes. He looks a bit weird without eyebrows though, but I didn't want any remaining louse to have even a smidgen of a chance to live. Not while I'm around anyway.

He's going to need a clean, separate, place to sleep though. Both his head and body, particularly his sensitive areas, are covered in red, angry looking sores. He's also covered in old, and newer looking scars. Most of them are thin and surgical looking, but he has a few scattered across his body that are definite torture wounds. Some look like burn scars, wile others are jagged and gnarled. His arms are also littered with puncture wounds, which are likely caused by needles. Again, more than expected at this point.

Despite cleaning him as thoroughly as I can, he's still going to be vulnerable to infection, if he isn't sick already. So i'll have to keep a close eye on him, at least until my contact gets back to me anyway. I suppose I could check to see if the guest room is ready right now. The bed should me more than big enough to accommodate him and, more importantly, I wouldn't mind throwing it out after all the lice have been dealt with.

Leaving the boy to soak in the warm spray some more, I go check on the guest room that is directly across the hall. Well, the sheets are a bit dusty, so those'll have to be changed. I rip the pale blue sheets from the bed, as well as removing the duvet cover, and toss them all into the hamper just outside of the laundry room. I then pull out an old lavender set, and quickly make the bed.

Once that is done, I go into the kitchen to grab a trash bag. I then go back into the bathroom and shove all of the clothes, my shoes, and the razor into the bag. I sweep all of the hair up and throw it into the black bag as well. I tie off the bag, and set it by the front door. I'll set it on fire later, when I find the time to skirt out of town for a bit. With that out of the way, I go over to the tub and shut off the water. Time to get him dried off and tucked into bed.

I'm going to have to figure out what to feed him, and do some more cleaning. Then find a trustworthy doctor. Thank god for Sun Flames, I would've crashed hours ago if not for them.

**a disgusting/ embarrassing amount of research went into this chapter, and i'm not entirely sure how this turned out. if it's weird or confusing, let me know so i can attempt to fix it.**

**i honestly don't know how 'fancy' the car i listed is, it's just the most practical/ nice looking one of the italian brands i looked up.**

**i don't pretend to know foreign languages, so i'll be using the words sparingly**

**(1) i did, however, have a lot of fun looking up curse words. this one is a common exclamation, and roughly means damn, shit, or hell**

**(2) this one means jesus**


	4. Terms and Conditions

**right, im back. had to take a bit of a break because i needed time to deal with a couple of depressive episodes. the good news is that i have the next chapter here. the bad news is that i don't have any kind of buffer because i wasn't writing anything this entire time, so i don't know when the next chapter will be up.**

* * *

After disinfecting and dressing the boy's wounds, I put him in a faded blue shirt that is dotted with little smiling suns. It's the top from one of my older pajama sets, and the arm cuffs are starting to fray a bit. I may need to find a similar looking replacement for it soon.

The shirt was so big on him, going straight down to his knees, I figured there was no way for the matching pants to fit. I also put him in a brand new pair of boxer briefs, just out of the package, and then tuck his slim body between the sheets of my guest bed. He makes no movements or sounds throughout the entire process, so it was both easier and harder for me. At least he wasn't struggling or screaming, would've been hard to explain to the neighbours.

After that, I immediately pull out my personal mobile phone, and start looking up ways to take care of the boy. Because of how thin he is, he'll likely need to be placed on a special diet. Looking for a trustworthy doctor can come later, but right now I need to find something he can eat, so he doesn't expire before I can find one. Or before the employer gives their answer.

I also take the time to look up different de-lousing treatments. Turns out that I've already taken care of the head and pubic lice, just by shaving him completely. It was also overkill apparently. With all the different products and treatments out there, he would've been fine in just a matter of weeks. Well, the hair on his head still needed to come off, but he could've kept his eyebrows and pubes. The body lice have also been taken care of apparently. It seems those are the easiest to treat, since you just need to wash the person and get rid of the infested clothes. I'll still get some products to treat my linens and car, so the bugs definitely can't spread and infect me.

I grab a pad of paper that is resting on the kitchen counter, and make a list of everything I'll need. I also take a quick look through my fridge and pantry, to see what I'll need to re-stock. It's been a while since I actually stayed here, so there isn't any fresh food. I had meant to take a small vacation after the mission, which is why I had even bothered to bring my nice car halfway to the facility in the first place. So much for that plan, but at least I'm going to get a pretty decent payout later.

With the list made, I open one of the cupboards and pull out a tall glass and one of my plastic pitchers. I then fill the glass halfway up with lukewarm water, and fill the pitcher almost to the brim. I may not have anything very suitable for the kid to eat right now, but he should at least get some water down his throat. That way he at least won't die of dehydration.

I make my way back to the guest room. I elbow open the door, which I had left ajar so I could hear him move around or call out easier, should he wish to. The boy seems to be visibly awake again, and is eying the covers curiously. He hasn't moved though, and is still lying on his back with his arms tucked underneath the covers. His eyes flick up and meet mine when I fully enter the room, and I half expect to see him zone out again. Surprisingly, he doesn't. His eyes just flick curiously down towards the containers in my hand, and then trail away to continue taking in the room.

Well, I suppose that's an improvement. He's still pretending I don't exist though, which can't last much longer if I'm going to get some water down his throat before I leave. I go over to the right side of the bed, and put the pitcher down on the nightstand. I turn towards the swaddled boy, who seems to be inspecting the ceiling fan now. I step up to the edge of the bed and hold out the glass.

"You need to drink this."

The kid doesn't react, just keeps looking up at the ceiling. My eyebrow twitches minutely, but I manage to keep the frown off my face. This was expected, he didn't react or respond to me speaking before, so he probably won't now. I know almost nothing about him, so it's very likely that he doesn't understand Italian. Finding out what language he speaks can come later, right now I need to get him to drink something without setting him off again. Which means I have to get the point across without touching him.

I hold the glass out and dangle it just above the boy's face, twirling it around for good measure. The boy's eyes immediately lock onto the clear glass, and I nearly smirk in triumph. I swirl it around again and the boy follows it for a moment, before inexplicably losing interest in it and going back up to the ceiling. Fucking brat!

Looks like I'm going to have to touch him after all. I just hope he stays lucid enough to swallow some, because this is going to be a nightmare if he just dribbles it everywhere. He needs to be upright for this anyway, and I doubt he has the energy to move right now. I put the glass down on the nightstand, and then reach out for the kid.

As expected, the kid's eyes go blank the moment my hands touch his rough skin. I ignore it for now, and gently slide him out of the covers. I prop him up on some pillows that are resting against the headboard, which leaves his pale chest exposed to the air. Once I deem that he'll be able to remain upright on his own, I let him go to pick up the glass of water again. His eyes are still blank when I turn back to him, which makes me want to huff in annoyance. Looks like I'm going to have to do everything myself.

I cup the back of his head and neck with my right hand, and tilt it back just a bit while supporting it. I then place the glass to his cracked lips and slowly tilt it up. Once the liquid touches his mouth, the boy reacts. After spilling a bit down his chin, the boy makes a strange coughing, gurgling noise before seeming to come back to awareness. His eyes clear up and they flit down to the glass that I'm still holding against his mouth.

His arms twitch from aborted movements, but he finally starts to drink and swallow the water on his own. His throat makes this awful clicking noise with each shallow sip, but the boy doesn't show any indication of being in pain so I leave it be. Once the glass is empty, I pull it and my hands away. The boy's eyes then lock onto me as I put the glass back onto the nightstand, next to the pitcher.

I raise my brow at him, but he just continues to observe me with an inscrutable expression. This continues on for a moment, before the boy seems to lose interest and focuses on the covers once more. Right.

"Well, I need to get going, so I'm just going to tuck you back in now."

The boy predictably doesn't respond, so I just manhandle him back under the covers. He surprisingly doesn't zone out this time, but keeps his eyes averted from me. Small mercies I guess. I decide to leave his left arm free, just in case he decides to get himself some more water while I'm gone. With all of that done, I hurry out of the room and change into some fresher clothes. Once changed, I head for the door and place my fedora back on my head.

* * *

Since the boy will likely need near constant supervision in the foreseeable future, I decide to stock up on as many groceries as possible. I'm a pretty good cook, if I do say so, and the less trips I have to make while I'm laying low, the better. Besides, I want that fucking holiday I promised myself.

So that's what I do. For a full two days, I putter around my flat doting every waking moment not taken up with watching the brat, who I'm pretty sure is mute at this point, to nearly all of my various hobbies. Reading books I've bought or stolen during my travels, trolling various forums and websites dedicated to the discussion and/ or solving of puzzles or mathematical problems, upstaging and rubbing my obvious genius and superiority into the other members of said sites, and taking long and delightful naps to name a few.

I'd really like to prowl the various upscale pubs and clubs in the surrounding area, and see if I can find a sweet little something to spend my nights with, but that would be a bad idea for multiple reasons right now. Not only do I not have the time, with having to care for the twig of a boy in my guest room, but it would defeat the point of trying to lay low. Besides, the kid really does need constant supervision.

He seems either unable, or completely unwilling going by the complete apathy he displays most of the time, to care for himself in any way. If I hadn't personally seen evidence to the contrary not days prior, I would've assumed the boy to be a lost cause and shot him on the spot. If only to cut both our suffering short. I have to spend tremendous amounts of time and effort just to get water down his throat, not even mentioning the bland bread and soup I try to feed him.

Aren't starvation victims supposed to be desperate for food? One of the things that I saw the most on my little google search was that you should be very careful, and forcefully limit how much said victim consumes. That way they don't go into shock or get even sicker.

This kid is the complete opposite. He doesn't acknowledge any food or drink he's given, unless it's been directly shoved in front of his face. Even then, I have to practically pry his mouth open and hand feed him just to get him to get the hint. Otherwise, the water and food will just sit on the nightstand and grow cold and stale. Fucking insulting that is. If he weren't so sick, and already starved half to death, I'd just refuse to serve him anything!

So it's with no small amount of relief that I immediately answer my work mobile, when a familiar number calls it.

"Renato."

"Just who the fuck did you find down there!? And please, for the love of God, tell me the kid is with you and still alive."

I freeze mid slide into a leather recliner, and raise my eyebrow. That's not really what I expected to hear. I quickly shake my head, and finally sit all the way down.

"He's both alive and currently sleeping in my guest room. He hasn't spoken a word though, so I don't know his name. Why? Is there a problem?"

"A problem? Oh, no, not at all. I mean, take away the fact that the client essentially demanded the current status of your recent find, as well as demanding your whereabouts so they can send a doctor to check on him, everything's completely normal."

I scowl down at my socked feet. They're my favourite pair. Fuzzy, with infused aloe, and covered in wide eyed chameleons. They match my current set of pajamas perfectly, sans the fuzziness. That sounds like a bit of a waste. I mean, sending a mist to get information I understand, but this sounds like they want him alive for longer that that. This sounds suspicious, what could they possibly want him for?

"Did they say why they're so invested in this?"

"I fucking wish! The contact just said, in no uncertain terms, that the boy is to be kept safe, given proper medical attention by a doctor of their choice, and, once he's well enough for travel, to be turned over into their custody. No questions asked, and no room for complaint. Also said to keep all of this to ourselves, or we'll be on the top of every hit list imaginable."

"Does the client even have the clout to back all that up?"

A deep, bone weary sigh crackles through the line.

"I'm afraid so. I did a bit of digging before I called, just try and see what we're dealing with, and it wasn't pretty Renato. We're either dealing with the Vongola themselves, or a close branch Famiglia."

"Cazzo(1)!"

"You're telling me. Listen, I don't think we can wiggle out of this one. Not without major risks anyway. It's best to go along with it for now, and do what they ask until the kid is out of your hair."

I sigh, and settle further into my chair, flipping the foot rest up and leaning back.

"Fine. I'll text you an address as soon as I hang up. Anything else I need to know? Where's the drop for the other stuff? And what about my pay? I'm absolutely demanding more now."

So much for keeping this place as a vacation home of sorts. I'll have to get rid of the flat the moment this mission is over. You never want anyone to really know where you live. You never know who might turn up one day.

"Well, they already offered you double what you were going to get originally. And they said you're to hand all information over to one of the people they send with the doctor."

"But?"

"But… Now don't get mad, I'm just he messenger ok?"

"Get on with it!"

"Right. Uh, well. They said you aren't getting a cent until all this is over, and the kid is safely in their custody."

My whole body goes rigid, and the phone starts creaking from my punishing grip.

"What?"

"You heard exactly what I said. No pay until the job's done. Not even a down, or partial payment for what you've already done."

I feel tremors start wracking my body, and it's everything I can do to not toss the phone across the room.

"Renato? Still there? Well… text me an address and I'll let you know when to expect someone. So, uh. Yeah. Bye."

The line goes dead, and I slowly lower the device down onto the table on my right. I take a deep breath, and flick my eyes over to the coffee table, where my gun holster is sprawled.

Fuck this shit.

* * *

I don't smoke often. Not because I don't like it. I actually find the flavour of certain brands quite appealing. I've just found that smoking on the job can be quite hazardous at times. Not only would an ill timed plume of smoke, or the red glow of a cherry undoubtedly give me away, but I think having an intense craving or an impromptu hacking fit would be rather distracting in a potentially tense situation. But I find myself needing one now, if only to help calm myself down.

I take a nice, slow drag of my favourite brand, sucking the stick down about halfway, and gaze upon my handiwork. There's now four holes lined up above my flat screen tv, plaster still crumbling down out of the freshly made holes. Not bad, if I do say so. I bet if I took a ruler or a level to them, they'd be in a completely straight line.

There's suddenly a knock on the door, and I blow out a plume of smoke.

"Yes?"

"It's security, we've received a complaint. Could you please open the door?"

I sigh, and place the cigarette in the ashtray, where it continues to burn. I also take my gun, which is still clutched within my right hand, and get out of the chair. I scoop up my holster and head towards the kitchen.

"Just a moment."

I quickly stash the weapon and holster, and saunter over to the door. I calmly open it up to find the security guard, who's usually asleep by now, standing behind it in the hallway. It's a shame that he's not too lazy to answer the office phone. I don't really feel like explaining myself right now.

I lean against the door, which is only open enough to show my lithe pajama'd form, and none of the room behind me. I cock up a brow, and give the man an obvious once over.

"Yes?"

The balding man makes a rather poor attempt to not gawk at my night clothes, and in return I make no effort at all at hiding my amusement. The man soon looks away, and clears his throat.

"Yes, um, I received a complaint not too long ago. Something about loud noises that sounded like gunfire?"

I hum in thought a bit, remaining non plussed.

"Nope, no guns. Oh!"

I snap my fingers in a faux 'ah ha' moment, and point at him meaningfully.

"It was probably the movie I was watching earlier. I was playing it pretty loud, so it was probably what startled them."

The man looks a little disbelieving, and tries to subtly look around me, to no avail. He frowns, but then shakes his head and mutters under his breath.

"_It's too late for this shit_. Right, well, just keep it down from now on ok? Have a good night sir."

"Yeah."

I close the door, and head back to my recliner. I think I'll finish my smoke, then head to bed. Not sure if I should be concerned, but the kid made absolutely no noise during my little outburst. Should probably check up on him before I turn in. Just in case.

**(1)In this context, it means fuck/ shit/ or hell as an exclamation**

**hope you guys liked. not as depressing this chapter, or as disturbing, i think. though i have a pretty dark sense of humour tbh. i'm pretty sure the doctor shows up next chapter.**

**let me know what you think, or are interested in seeing in the future. like reborn's pajamas, give me some design ideas.**


	5. The Doctor is In

**well... it's been a while. long story short, i'm living in Canada now, and am legally jobless. thankfully, what the government doesn't know won't hurt them, and they can't tax me for it. but anyway, here's the next chapter.**

* * *

The doctor arrived late in the afternoon, about two days later, along with a stern faced bodyguard. I managed to avoid any more issues with the neighbours, despite one of them dropping by to try and snoop around. They were sent away easily enough, but that meant that I had to let my visitors know that they had to arrive within a certain time frame, to not arouse further suspicion.

So, with a cursory look through the peep hole to be sure of my visitor's identity, I usher them into the flat with little fanfare. I don't bother to offer them anything, and just lead them to the guest room so the doctor can go ahead and do her thing. The doctor immediately goes over to the bed, setting the single fabric tote she brought down onto the floor, and starts checking over the kid while the bodyguard stations herself just outside the bedroom door.

Not seeing much of note on the bodyguard outside the standard handgun concealed inside her jacket, and the vague sensation of Lightning Flames, I turn my attention towards the bed. The kid is predictably pretending to be asleep, and the woman is fishing a few things out of her bag. It's the usual stuff, an ear thermometer, stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and those things they use to check your eyes and ears. Her eyes flit over the boy's waxen face, a frown pinching the edges of her mouth. She places the thermometer in the boy's ear and glances over at me.

"Explain the boy's condition when you found him, and how you've treated him in the meantime."

The instrument beeps, and she quickly removes it. She mumbles the number thirty-five point eight(1), and jots it down in a small, pocket sized notebook that's resting on the nightstand. She takes the disposable plastic cap off the device and tosses it into the nearby bin. She tucks it back away in the depths of the tote, and pulls the boy's arm closer to the edge of the bed. He's wearing a neon pink night shirt today, with little purple polka-dots and green flowers as the design. I cross my arms and lean my hip against the wall, keeping an eye on the women.

"From what I saw, the kid was likely kept in a cage for the duration his captivity. I don't know how long he was confined there, but the conditions were pretty abysmal. The room he was in was absolutely filthy, and had a rancid smell to it. He had some blood splatter on him, which was probably from one of the other dead kids."

The woman nods and picks up the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. She rolls the kid's baggy sleeve up and wraps the cuff around his arm while I continue.

"I can't really say what the kid went through, but he's pretty much in the same condition that I found him. Minus the hair, of course. Had to get rid of it, was disgusting and filled with parasites."

The woman's frown deepens as she places the stethoscope under the cuff, and begins to pump it up.

"The kid's clothes were beyond hope, and I had to cut his shorts off since they were stuck to him in places. He was pretty much stewing in his own filth, and was covered in sores."

The woman hums and slowly lets the air in the cuff out, jotting a number down in her notebook- 91/60- before putting the cuff away. She then grabs the boy's wrist and looks down at her watch.

"I cleaned him up the best I could and disinfected his wounds right after. Other than forcing food and water down his throat as often as I can, and changing his dressings, I haven't really done much with the kid."

The woman immediately turns to me with narrowed eyes, dropping the kid's wrist in favour of crossing her arms across her chest. I quirk an eyebrow at her, but otherwise don't move from my own position. The woman closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath in through her nostrils. She slowly lets the air back out, and reopens her eyes.

"What, _exactly_, have you been feeding him, and in what quantities?"

I fight a frown and tell her. She sighs again, and rubs her forehead and temple while staring at the floor.

"Ana, get the IV's and drugs from the van. Make sure the vitamins and probiotics are in there too, while you're at it."

The bodyguard leaves, and the doctor turns back towards the bed.

"You at least kept it to bland food and small portions, but he's going to have to be on a stricter diet than that. Pushing the water was good, since dehydration is the more risky factor here, but now I need to make sure he doesn't get Refeeding Syndrome(2). He's more than just malnourished at this point, and feeding him the wrong things could kill him just as easily as an infection right now. It's a goddamn miracle that he's still alive. Has he been conscious at all?"

"He's conscious now, he's just pretending not to be."

After a brief pause, where she barely contains a startled look, she swiftly turns back around to the bed. She grabs a small flashlight from her bag and stands up out of her chair, leaning over the kid enough to be face to face with him. She pries one of his eyes open, and flicks the light in and out of his eye. The kid lets out a rush of air, and the other eye opens. I guess he's decided to give up the ruse, for a bit anyway. The doctor tucks the flashlight into a pocket, and lets go of his face.

"What's your name? Do you feel any discomfort anywhere?"

The boy doesn't respond, beyond briefly examining the woman, before losing interest in favour of staring at the ceiling again. She glances at me, but I just stay reclined against the wall, not offering anything new. She focuses back on the boy and starts gently prodding his body, likely looking for visual signs of pain. She also repeats the same questions in English and French, which still draws no reaction from the kid.

"I already tried six different languages, including English and French. He hasn't responded to any of them. I even tried Mandarin because of his eyes, but it didn't even get a twitch out of him."

The woman hums, and I hear the front door open and close again. There's a loud rustling sound, which I assume is the bodyguard lugging a huge duffle towards the guest room. I push off the wall, and walk over to the other side of the bed, allowing room for the other woman to come in. I lean back against the wall again, and try to seem as nonchalant as possible. The doctor looks up briefly and motions to the spot beside her.

"Put that down here. Oh good, it has the syringes and test kits in it too. That will make things simpler. Has he attempted to speak or move at all? Or has he just been completely apathetic to everything?"

"The only thing that moves is his eyes. He sometimes focuses on things, but loses interest quickly. He's never made a sound, and I pretty much have to manhandle him for everything, including getting him to eat and drink."

The doctor pulls out a butterfly needle, and IV line/ connector, as well as some tape, and places them on the night stand. She nods and pulls out a rubber tourniquet as well as some alcohol swabs.

"Unfortunately, apathy and little to no energy is normal in starvation cases. Especially when they're close to death. He no doubt has a host of psychological problems as well, considering the trauma he's gone through, but I'm not qualified to deal with that."

I hum, and go back to eyeing the zoned out kid while the doctor preps his arm. The kid's eyes slip back closed when the needle plunges in.

Several hours later, the doctor, along with her bodyguard, have packed up their things and made their exit. The doctor gave me her number, apparently her name is Francine, and stated that they'd be back in a few days. She left instructions for the kid's new diet and vitamin schedule, as well as a demand that I call her should anything change, whether good or bad. I close the door behind them, and tuck the card into my suit jacket. I'll need to get everything they left behind for the kid put away and organized, and I'm pretty sure the IV bags they left behind need to be refrigerated when not being used.

I walk into the kid's room, briefly eyeing the nutrient bag that is slowly dripping its contents into the boy's veins. It's still over half full, and Francine said that the kid needs all of it, so I leave it alone while I gather all of the other supplies into a grocery bag. While grabbing a bottle of antibiotics, I notice that the kid is fully alert for once, and all of his attention is trained on something in the corner of the room. The boy's eyes are perfectly clear and focused, not dead eyed and aimless like they usually are.

Narrowing my eyes, I look over at the corner to the right of the door, but see nothing. I tilt my head, and allow a tendril of my Flames to leak out, searching for any possible Mist illusions. Nothing. I immediately look back down at the kid, who let out a soft whimper. His eyes are clenched shut, and his entire body has gone rigid. I frown, and put the bag of medical supplies down.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

I ask despite knowing I probably won't get an answer. Well, the kid hasn't made any noises until now, so maybe I have to work him up to actual speech. I don't touch the kid, not wanting to set him off further, but he remains stiff for the remainder of the time it takes for me to gather the stuff up. I do notice that he finally relaxes when I leave the room and start closing the door. Hmmm, I should keep an eye on that, and bring it up with the doctor later. She did say he could have mental issues, and I need to know immediately if I'm going to be dealing with a nutcase for the foreseeable future.

**(1)This is Celsius and is roughly 96.4 in Fahrenheit. While not hypothermic levels, this is considered slightly below the average body temperature.**

**(2)there was a link here that ff didn't like yeah… if someone is malnourished or on the brink of starving to death, seek professional help. You could easily kill them otherwise.**

**i would like everyone to know that i am not a medical professional, and that a google search does not mean that i know what i'm talking about. please go to a doctor or other medical practitioner with your concerns. i'm also aware that referring to someone with mental health issues as a nutcase is very callous, and as someone with issues of my own, i'm aware that it's probably offensive. Reborn isn't the most tactful, or even caring, individual rn, and thus he says some rude things.**

**also, back to tsuna pov next time. that's the plan anyway**

**and with that, i'm tired. i hope you enjoyed the chapter despite the delay. i don't the chapter is as good as it could be, but i tried to crank it out regardless.**


	6. Tuna's Mini Adventure

**ok, i've made a totally not arbitrary update list, and this was first in line.**

* * *

"_Tsu-chan~ lunch is- Tsu-chan! What's wrong baby?"_

"_Can you tell mummy why you're crying?"_

"_What do you mean To-chan and Da-chan are gone? Weren't you playing together just a moment ago? They're your best friends, why would they leave you hunny?"_

"_You're absolutely sick! How could you!? He's our son! I want you and that, that _man_ out of my house! NOW!"_

"_It's ok baby. It's ok. They can't hurt you anymore. It's ok, mummy will protect you. Mummy is here. Shhhh, shhh."_

_**Hmm-hm, hm-hmmm, hmm.**_

I sigh as a familiar tune is hummed somewhere above me, with a hand softly stroking my head. I nuzzle against it, and finally open my eyes. I blearily blink up at the translucent blond hair, and startlingly clear set of blue eyes. Oh, I can almost see To-chan's face again, and he's humming?

My eyes widen a bit, and I cough. My throat feels too ragged to make the happy noise I wanted to make, so I settle for trying to reach up towards him with my left arm, the one not trapped under the covers. To-chan stops humming, but his lips twist into a gentle smile as his blurring hands cup mine. Without passing through it, he manages to gently guide my hand back down to the sheets. Once it's nestled back down, he readjusts his warm grip to the top of my hand instead.

_**No need to strain yourself Tsu-chan, I'm not going anywhere for awhile.**_

It's not very clear, and sounds like it's being filtered through a curtain of water, but I can hear his voice. Finally, after so long! My chest and throat start constricting, and breathing is getting harder, when To-chan raises a hand up to my face. He's smiling, but he looks so sad now too. Why are you sad? You're finally almost back with me!

_**There's no need to cry Tsu-chan. Just breathe, I'm here.**_

He starts to breathe in and out slowly, urging me to follow along. Soon, I can breathe properly, and the tears stop flowing. My face starts to feel itchy as the moisture dries off my cheeks, but I ignore it in favour of listening to To-chan's muffled words.

_**There you go. Feeling better?**_

My head twitches as I try to nod. To-chan's smile turns happy again.

_**That's good. Why don't you drink some water? Get back some of what you lost?**_

Water? I turn my head to the left, and see a glass with water inside resting on the table. I also notice a tall metal hook sitting in front of it, an empty bag hanging from it. The bag has a long tube running down from it, but To-chan distracts me before I can see where it goes.

_**Tsu-chan, water.**_

Oh yeah. To-chan still has his hands over my left one, so I decide to worm my other one from under the covers. After much twisting, squirming, and huffing, and after almost dropping it once or twice, I manage to get the glass to my lips. After managing to drain it, I don't have the energy to put the glass back on the table, or even to squirm my way back under the covers into a more comfortable position, so I just lay it down on the rumpled covers next to my hip.

I slump my head down on my shoulder, since I had moved up enough that I was basically crammed up against the headboard, and just stare at To-chan who has gone back to his muffled humming. My eyes are starting to droop, when the door clicks open. I ignore the black eyed man as he comes in, and keep my eyes on the still humming To-chan.

My eyes finally slip closed, and I drift off when I feel a solid hand on my cheek.

* * *

It's Da-chan this time, but he isn't singing for me. He want's me to do something for him again. He gives me an excited look, and gently tugs on my sleeve. Well, he doesn't really tug the material, but he makes the motions and I understand what he means regardless.

_**Come on Tsu-chan, you can't stay holed in here forever! He has a TV here! I want to watch cartoons with you again, so get up!**_

I huff at him, because I don't want to get up, but he persists. He cajoles and pesters, until I decide to humor him. So prop myself up on my shaking arms, and push the covers down enough to free my naked legs. I shiver a bit, as the trapped heat leaves my limbs, but swing my legs over the side of the bed regardless. Da-chan gives a muffled sound of encouragement, but stops me before I manage to slide off the bed.

_**Ah, almost forgot. You should probably detach this before we go anywhere.**_

I look down at my left arm, where he's pointing at a tube that's filled with an off-colour liquid. I pull up my sleeve, which is lime green with what looks like palm trees decorating the painfully bright fabric, and see that the tube is connected to a needle that's been taped to my arm. Da-chan leans over and points to a part of the tube, right by the tape.

_**Disconnect it here. Be careful not to rip the needle out.**_

I tilt my head to the side, and fiddle around with the tube before I manage to pop it out. The needle in my arm aches a bit from all the moving about, but I ignore it. Not really knowing what to do with it, I just set it on the night stand, positioning it so it won't fall down onto the floor. I glance up at the bag, which is a bit smaller and has different words on it than the last one. I wonder how much time has passed since To-chan visited me?

_**Tsu-chan~ think about whatever it is later! I wanna watch cartoons now, while your minder isn't here!**_

I sigh through my nose, and finally slide off the bed. My legs aren't stable enough to hold me up though, at least not that suddenly, so I end up landing on my hands and knees with a soft grunt. I frown down at the rug, which is digging uncomfortably into my skin, and crane my neck up to look at the wall. Do I want to crawl, or try standing?

Hmmm, Da-chan said that the black eyed man isn't here, so its probably for the best to just crawl right now. That way I don't have to worry about falling down again. I take a deep breath in, and start pushing myself towards the door, like I did back at the labs. Da-chan is standing my the door, and making encouraging words every now and then.

Eventually, with a few breaks to catch my breath and rest my limbs, I make it out into the hallway, and then into what looks like a western style living room. I crawl over to the coffee table, and slump down in front of it, right beside Da-chan. I slump my head down on the cool glass, letting my arms dangle down onto the silky soft rug. Da-chan waits for me to catch my breath, and then points towards a remote that's sitting in the middle of the table.

_**Come on, I think they're playing on channel 35(1)**_

I sigh, and haul one of my arms up and onto the table with a thump. I fumble the remote a bit, since my arm is still trembling, but manage to turn the rather large TV on. I don't recognize the symbols(2) on the remote, but Da-chan points to two of the more squiggly ones on the top right and middle center, and soon some rather loud and unfamiliar cartoons start playing. After a small amount of trial and error, I manage to find the volume control, and turn it down to a reasonable level.

Needless to say, I can't understand them. The language sounds the same as what the black eyed man and the people at the labs spoke, so I'm probably still in the same country. Luckily, they aren't the kind of shows that require you to understand them to be amusing. They seem to rely more on slapstick humour, so the words probably aren't adding much to the experience. Da-chan seems to love it though, so I decide to adjust myself to be more comfortable.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but I manage to prop my legs up to where I can rest my chin on my knees, and wrap my arms between my thighs and calves. I stare at the TV, letting Da-chan's muted laughter wash over me as I lose myself to the bright colours and loud noises of the show.

About three shows in, I feel something suddenly drape around my shoulders. My body locks up in surprise, and I'm already starting to zone out when whoever it is lifts me into their arms. My eyes land on spiky black hair, and then the angular jaw of the black eyed man. Oh, it's just him.

I keep as still as possible as the man wraps what I now know is a blanket around me, and then gently sets me down on a couch I hadn't noticed before. The man says something, and tucks the clicker(3) into my blanket cocoon, right next to my hand. I wait for him to leave the room, before focusing back on my surroundings.

Da-chan had disappeared at some point, and I hear the man bustling around somewhere behind me. I'm not really sure what the man plans on doing with me yet. To-chan, when he popped up- a few days ago?- after the doctor lady left, mouthed at me that I was safe for now. I want to believe him, but the black eyed man tried to hurt me after he said it.

I mean, he didn't follow through, and he's been nothing but gentle when he has actually touched me, but I won't forget the feeling he put off in that moment. The man is dangerous, and is just like the people who staffed the labs. It's only a matter of time before he gets tired of being nice.

The man comes back in with the metal stand, and he hooks the bag back up to my arm before heading off again. At least I have some freedom now, might as well enjoy it while I can.

(1)Needless to say, I don't know how Italian TV works, or how many channels you guys actually have. I'm just making stuff up at this point.

(2)I honestly don't know when they start teaching English numbers in Japanese schools, so just pretend that Tsuna just doesn't remember.

(3)Ok, honesty time. I've always called tv remotes clickers, and I've finally caved. I know ppl don't usually use that word for them, but my brain refuses to let me use any other word for it. I just don't want you guys to be confused.

**probs gunna go back to reborn's pov next chapter. dunno. i could do another Nono pov if you want, just let me know**

**and give me some design ideas for the jammies plz, my inspiration is starting to run dry.**


	7. One Lump or Two?

**Thanks to the lovely lemontune for becoming my betareader and helping me with this chapter! she also gave me an idea for tsuna's new pajamas, and both she and my brother helped me with reborn's new pair.**

** to get into the mood for posting this chapter, i've been listening to nothing but kazoo music. *sniff* it's such a majestic instrument**

**Floating Ash requested both reborn and nono, so this one's reborn, and the next one is nono**

* * *

It's a rather mild day out. Sunny, but with a chilly breeze cutting through the warmth sporadically. Fall is beginning to settle in, and the good weather is unlikely to last much past the month(1). Hmmm, maybe I should start taking the kid outside. Maybe that'll help get him out of his head, for a little while anyway. I'll ask Dr. Francine about it later today, when she comes over for the kid's check up.

I readjust the squishy package underneath my arm, and pull out my flat keys. They clatter noisily as I walk towards my front door, trying to get the correct one between my index finger and thumb. A noise coming through my door gives me pause though, since I don't remember leaving the TV on when I left over an hour ago.

Schooling my face, I quietly unlock the door and pocket my keys. I carefully set the package down on the carpeted floor, and pull one of my guns from its holster after making sure no one else was in the hallway. I click the safety off and crack the door open enough to peek inside. The sound of old cartoons pierce my ears as I take in the sight of my living room. It seems the kid has decided to get up and watch cartoons for some reason.

My lips twitch up for a second, before I manage to regain control of my face. I click the safety back on, and re-holster the gun. I quickly pick my package back up and finally go inside my flat. I don't slam the door, but make no effort to be quiet either. Either way, the boy doesn't react. I remove my fedora and place it on the hat rack, and toe off my shoes.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Again, no reaction. This time though, I think it's because he doesn't realize that I'm here. He's that engrossed with the show he's watching. The corner of my mouth twitches again, and I make my way back to my room. I glance into the guest room on my way by, and see that the half full nutrient bag is still hanging from it's hook. Well, I'll have to hook it back up to him here in a minute. He can't afford to skip any meals right now.

I open the door to my room, and toss the package on the bed. I walk over to the closet and shrug out of my suit jacket, hanging it up neatly next to the others. I loosen and remove my tie, and put it away in the corresponding drawer. With that done, I walk back out and head back into the hallway, going towards the living room. The kid hasn't moved at all, and is still watching the TV with a focus I haven't seen since he whimpered a few days ago.

Since then he seems to be coming around more, but it's never when I'm around. I mean, just yesterday I found that he had moved around, and even drank water on his own. I'm not exactly sure why he was crying, but it's not like I could've asked either. Regardless, it's a lot more than he's been doing, and I don't feel like discouraging it.

I creep up to the living room, and peer down at the boy who's still hunched over in front of the coffee table. He's still only wearing the pajama top and boxers, since I hadn't managed to get him his own set until today, and is practically swimming in the soft shirt. It only accentuates how scrawny and bony the kid is.

I look at the kid closer, and notice small tremors wracking his small frame. Well, he's half naked, and has no body fat to speak of. He's probably freezing just sitting there, with his legs bared for all to see. I glance over to the couch slightly to my left, and pull the dark grey, wool throw blanket off the back of it. With the warm, scratchy material in hand, I walk up behind the kid and drape it over his shoulders.

Unsurprisingly, the kid immediately flinches, and his body locks up. His breathing hitches as I lift him up, and I can see him start to disassociate. The doctor told me that's what the zone outs were, and to be careful and keep track of what's causing them. That way we can identify and limit his triggers, preventing as many episodes as possible.

That's the ideal anyway. Neither of us really know how long he's going to be in my care, and I'm by no means a caregiver. I'm used to taking lives, not preserving them. Well, unless it's my own. I'm very good at keeping myself alive.

When the kid's bony shoulder hits my chest, his head tilts back enough to see me. I wrangle him into a better position, and turn towards the couch while wrapping the blanket more securely around him. His eyes seem to clear up, but his posture remains rigid. Well, I'll chalk that up as a victory then. His eyes stay plastered to my face, and I walk the few steps to the couch to gently set him down on the right side of it.

"There, that should be more comfortable. Don't go moving on your own again for right now, you're not really in any condition to move yet."

I re-adjust the blanket, and then turn back to the coffee table. I pluck the clicker off the smooth glass surface, and tuck it into the boy's cocoon, next to his right hand. The boy still doesn't react, and I head over to the guest bedroom. I quickly gather the IV and stand up, after cleaning up what little leaked out of the tube, and take it out into the living room.

The IV port(2) in his hand is thankfully still in place, but the skin around the needle looks red and aggravated. The kid likely wasn't very gentle in removing the tube. Well, as long as it's not bleeding, I guess it'll be fine. I'll just tell the doctor when she gets here. I hook the tube back up, and go into the kitchen, aiming to make myself a good cup of espresso.

Ooh, the doctor shouldn't be here for a while, and the coffee machine will take a moment to warm up anyway, so why not open my parcel while I've got a moment? Might as well try it on too, make myself comfortable before the doctor gets here. The kid should also be properly dressed now, since I finally have sleep clothes in his size.

I go ahead and turn the fancy machine on to let the water heat up, and make my way back to my room. I open the package up, and separate the contents out. One of them is the one I'm going to put on the kid. It's light blue with smiling suns on it, much like the first set I put on him, but these ones are wide eyed and have freckles. The description said they were based off some concept art for a Japanese cartoon(3). I don't really know about that, but I like them.

I separate those from the pile, and pick out a different plastic covered garment, tugging the wrapping apart. I unfold the shirt and hold it up to see it better.

Perfect.

* * *

It's just as I'm tucking the kid back into bed, he'd nodded off after the seventh show, that there's a knock at the door. I adjust the IV stand once more and strut out into the hall, and eventually to the front door. I check through the peep hole, and then open the door when I see Dr Francine and her bodyguard. The door swings open and Dr. Francine looks up from her phone, only to double take when she sees my new pajamas.

I must say, I'm rather fond of my new acquisition. It's truly amazing what you can get online, and customizing clothes never gets old for me. The bodyguard, Ana, takes one look at the plain brown material with sequined cursive letters spelling out 'Coffee Slut', and immediately starts fighting to keep a straight face. I put an innocent smile on my face, and address the good doctor.

"Dr. Francine! Good timing! Is it just another check up, or did something come up in the tests that you need to deal with today?"

The woman blinks owlishly at my chest for a moment or two, before closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"I shouldn't need to take anymore tests unless something has changed with him. I do need to prescribe some different medications for him, and discuss a dietary and physical therapy schedule for the next few weeks though."

"Alright. He's still in the same room, come on in."

I let the women through the door, and turn around to lead them back to the guest room. Ana lets out a strangled wheeze, and Dr. Francine mutters an _oh dear god_ when they undoubtedly catch sight of my ass. I smirk at their reactions and just continue on towards the guest room, not waiting for them to catch up. I knew it was a good idea to put another message on the back of the pants.

I enter the sleeping kid's room, finally hearing the two women follow behind. The doctor whispers quietly to her bodyguard, so I enhance my hearing a bit to be able to listen in.

"Did I really just read 'cream optional' just now? I don't think I'm getting paid enough for this. What's Non-"

"Ma'am. Please stop. The man is a Sun, he can probably hear you."

"Shit. Let's just get this over with. I have other patients I need to see today."

I keep my expression placid, and lean against the wall like I did last time. The doctor comes in and sets up much the same as last time, and the bodyguard stations herself outside the door again. I silently watch as the woman putters through a standard check up, making more notes in her notebook every once in a while. She then places it down on the night stand, and turns to me with crossed arms.

"So, fill me in on any changes, and we'll come up with a plan for the next few weeks."

* * *

(1)I don't know their weather patterns, but it says that it's usually rainy or sunny in winter. Also that it doesn't dip much past -4 or -5? can someone actually from that country please tell me what your falls and winters are generally like? It would help. Specifically northern Italy plz.

(2)You know, despite having many IV's shoved into me in my short adult life, I don't really know the terminology for all the parts. I tried looking it up, but the pictures made me almost pass out. I despise/ am terrified of needles btw.

(3)It's the Deku Sun

**Hope y'all liked, i went against my Super Not Arbitrary list because i got a fit of inspiration for this fic. next chapter is gunna be nono's pov again**

**edit 01/30/2020 12:06 am: i just noticed this story was added to a community. YAY!**


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